


Sentinel of a Great Sale

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Fun, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-10-17
Updated: 1997-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sentinel goes shopping</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentinel of a Great Sale

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two events: 1) I read "Toaster Boy" by an author not on AO3 and 2) I watched the episode "Poachers."

He stood near the entrance, wind from the open door playing with the nape of his neck. Sandburg's presence was a comforting echo amongst the noise and bustle of the Christmas-mad crowd. There was little time to waste--half hour, maybe, two tops--and much to do. Automatically, he turned down his hearing enough that he no longer heard the muzak rendition of the little drummer boy. It was August, for Christ sake; there was no reason he needed to endure that.

Suddenly, without any conscious control, Ellison felt his eyes drawn to the brilliant fluorescent orange sale sign near the men's department display. Of its own volition, his sight expanded and focused in... Hey! 50% off all jockey underwear. Not a bad deal.

Sandburg's hand on his arm jerked him back. "Dinner, remember? You needed something?"

Jim nodded silently, scanning the room, analyzing the best path through the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his spirit guide sitting on the floor, back behind women's holiday dresses.

The panther watched him, and Jim *knew* it wanted him to follow. The animal took off, running through the department store, and Jim followed, leaping over racks and display tables, knocking over mannequins in his head-long dash past the jewelry counter, until at last, he hit the domestics section. He pushed the Martha Stewart collection curtains out of the way--expensive, and not worth it--threaded around the Mikasa china and crystal exhibit until, finally, he reached his destination.

The panther lay next to of a pile of cloth, his tail beating impatiently, waiting for Jim to join him.

Ellison picked up the material and looked at it. An apron. Well, he could use one but ... a floral motif? Somehow, it just didn't seem right. He looked at the panther questioningly. "You think..?"

Green eyes glared banefully back at him.

"I was just asking." Jim looked at looked at the cloth again, holding it up to the light. Black background, red flowers, pansies maybe. Blair would know. He ran his hand over it, then sniffed the fabric. Not too bad actually. The coloring was pretty soothing; it'd work well with the kitchen decor. Then he caught the price-- $1.29-- and grinned.

Floral. For $1.29, he could do floral.

"Jim! You okay? The way you took off like that, I thought maybe you saw somethin'." Blair radiated concern, his breathing a touch labored. "This woman tried to tackle me over in home furnishings." He shook his wrist and absently licked away a small drop of blood from the back of his hand. "She got me with her ring, though, before I could get away."

His guide seemed shaken, but since that was one of his natural states, Jim ignored him. He turned the apron over, looking for flaws in the fabric, something to explain its great price, but nothing leapt out at him. It looked okay, smelled okay, and felt okay. It would do. "I did, Chief." Jim turned to his partner, displaying the apron like a hunting trophy. "I found something to keep the grease off my clothes the next time I cook."

Sandburg didn't seemed to be tracking; he just stared at the apron. "Jim. It's floral."

Ellison shrugged. "What's the matter, Sandburg? Your masculinity tied up in what kind of clothes you wear?"

Blair quickly held up his hands in surrender. "None of my business, big guy. Don't ask, don't tell. That's my motto."

Jim smiled predatorily. "Listen, Chief, for the right price, I'd wear teal velour." He nudged Sandburg, who seemed to be having trouble with that concept. "Come on, I still have the rest of the shopping to do." He threw the apron into the air and grabbed it again, then headed for the cashier.

Sandburg shook his head and followed.

The panther licked himself contentedly, and looked indulgently after the two men.

The End  



End file.
